


Look Alike

by PGT



Category: One Piece
Genre: F/M, Panic Attacks, Survivor Guilt, Trauma, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2020-01-13 14:24:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18470776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PGT/pseuds/PGT
Summary: Tashigi's glasses get knocked off during sex and Zoro faces a problem he'd been bottling up for a long time.





	Look Alike

**Author's Note:**

> Man I'm supposed to be doing homework but what if I wrote for a ship I'd never considered before instead--
> 
> This could turn into a multichapter fic eventually but my teacher will murder me if I write more of this than my essay so... don't be looking out for that for a while.
> 
> Feel free to comment ;)

Zoro feels his throat flex and bile stings in his mouth. He can’t focus on Tashigi’s voice, it’s too familiar. He can’t look up, for a worse version of the issue. He fixes his eyes on the bowl of the toilet, already stained with the contents of his stomach. Drool drips into it and Zoro can't be bothered to spit it away, knowing he only has a few moments before more comes up.

“Leave, please,” he manages to rasp before his shoulders hitch up and his fingers flex against the seat of the toilet. His jaw opens more on reflex than of his own will and his stomach clenches. He tries to think of anything but the visuals his mind is providing him. But swords and training just lead back to memories of her, and he has little else to redirect his mind towards. He tries to focus on Tashigi’s face, covered with those thick lenses, but he can’t concentrate and they just slip away, and he sees Kuina beneath him, breasts cupped in his hands, hips bound to his own. He whimpers, and lets his forehead fall against the back of the toilet. When his mind comes back to him, he blinks gently, not having realized he’d been crying. His arms shake, whether from the stress or the tensity he’d been clutching the porcelain with. He coughs and spits into the bowl, flushes the evidence away. He focuses on what surrounds him. The noise of the toilet flushing, the blinding white of the walls and sink top and bathtub. The soft dark blue towels that are too dark to stain as he wipes his mouth.

Zoro gets to his feet and it’s harder than standing drunk or bloodied. He supports himself on the wall and stumbles back into the bedroom, praying Tashigi is either gone or has her glasses on. 

She must have left; drawers are thrown open and a hanger is thrown onto the crumpled sheets. He focuses on fixing the room, taking the sheets and pillowcases to the laundry room, as well as the washcloth he’d dirtied. He pushes the drawers in, fixes the coffee table that sits askew, recognizing it as a common object Tashigi stumbles over. His nerves calm, and by the time he’s brushed his teeth he’s pushed any taboo thoughts down where they can’t hurt him.

He’s sitting with his head in his hands on the couch when his phone rings. He’d been contemplating how to explain the incident to Tashigi when she came back, but it would seem he didn’t have so much time to think it over. 

When he reaches the device, left on its charger in the kitchen, the voice on the other side is furious. “Motherfucker if you even dared to touch my lieutenant in a way that hurt her--”

He can hear Tashigi trying to clarify in the background, but he’s almost grateful that Smoker is the one on the line. It’s easier to talk to someone who’s pissed.

“Can you keep her at your place tonight, Smoker? I’ll explain everything, I promise. She isn’t hurt, is she?”

“She’s got a bruise on her calf but I can’t get it out of her that it was anything other than the coffee table. But you don't come crying to your boss for tripping--”

Zoro hear’s Tashigi again, though he can’t understand her. “I had her leave in a hurry, she must have tripped. Listen, I don't want to talk about my sex life with you but I can swear to you I didn’t hurt her. I got… I have some really specific issues...”

Smoker is silent breifly, he hears Tashigi again. “ED?”

“No you fucking-- I’m barely 25.”

“It’s not something to be ashamed of, kid, you can talk to me if you need to--”

Zoro tells himself he’s just happy Smoker doesn’t think he hurt Tashigi, anymore. 

 

 

The night passes fitfully, Zoro not sleeping much, but managing to keep his trauma at bay with distracting music and television. He can’t find it in himself to work out when his alarm goes off to do so, and takes a cold shower instead. He hears Tashigi’s car roll up around noon, and goes to greet her at the door. Smoker stands behind her like a parole officer, and doesn’t bother to hide the pistol holstered at his hip.

Tashigi, thank god, is wearing her glasses.

She dives to hug him, and Zoro grips her firmly, bronze arms crossing over her lean back. He digs his nails into his palms as the muscles in her back remind him of the girl she was so unbearably similar to. He’s grateful when Smoker pulls her away, glare untrusting and demanding an explanation. She yells at him for being too overprotective, but Zoro waves it off.

“I'm glad someone worries about her as much as I do,” He murmurs, before excusing himself to make them all coffee.

When he returns to the living room, Smoker is sitting in his seat on the couch, as close as he can platonically be to Tashigi, who sits like a student in the principal’s office.

He gives them their respective coffees, and settles in a chair across from the table, feeling much more criminal than he’d ever expected to be, faced with two cops.

There’s a silence while Smoker glares, and Zoro busies himself burning his tongue on caffeine. Tashigi breaks it, “He didn’t hurt me, I really don’t understand it he just got pale and sick all of a sudden.”

“I want to hear him say it,” Smoker growls. 

“It’s going to sound so weird without details I’d really rather not talk about,” Zoro breathes, unable to meet Smoker’s eyes. When he doesn’t give any go ahead but still air, Zoro takes another swig of coffee. “She… Her glasses got thrown off, her arm brushed them off,” He focuses on Tashigi’s face, ignores the worried brows, fixates on the red frames. “I…”

 

“Calling her ugly or something?” Smoker’s voice raises, and Zoro clenches his teeth.

“Tashigi is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met,” he bites out. “She just looks a lot like someone who died, and I got this visual--” his throat locks, and he sees the same vision, Kuina in his arms, a grown version of her, with the same bloodied torso and hollow eyes.

He vaguely recognizes that he’s dropped his mug, and feels hands on his shoulders, too large to be Tashigi’s. Smoker is suddenly in his face, and he lets his mind focus on him, pulling him away from the visage.

“I don’t know what you’re seein’ but you need therapy if that’s going to be an issue for you two.” Smoker growls, but his voice is soft, suddenly.

Zoro can’t find his voice, but nods.


End file.
